


Birthright

by MoiraiThanatoio



Series: Droit du Royal [3]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Episode: s01e10 The Moment of Truth, Family Secrets, M/M, secret royalty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-15
Updated: 2012-01-15
Packaged: 2017-10-29 14:49:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/321027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoiraiThanatoio/pseuds/MoiraiThanatoio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cendred arrives in Camelot, giving Merlin and Arthur an unexpected second chance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Birthright

The sun was dropping behind the towers of Camelot as Arthur and Merlin cleared the forest and started up the long road through the lower town and to the gates. The people were livened, as they passed, some energy imparted that had been absent that morning. Or, perhaps, they had been completely unaware of others when they had first left.

Merlin, seated on the horse that always seemed to be assigned to him from the royal stable, watched Arthur’s slow gait ahead. The prince was barely attending to his reins, trusting to the training of his stallion to lead him back to the stable. His thoughts, unknown, but clearly wandering as he simply looked about idly at the people they passed.

Some depth in his prince’s gaze had Merlin frowning. His approach had been instinctual, but Arthur’s refusal… there were things he could question, but that sense of rightness that spoke of the king he would become was untouchable.

The stable hands that took their horses were obviously excited. They settled when their master came out to speak with Arthur personally.

“Your Highness, the King requests your presence at the earliest opportunity. A delegation from Celidoine has arrived.”

Arthur’s nod dismissed the man and he frowned slightly as he turned to Merlin. “Go to my rooms and send a maid for anything you need outside those walls. I don’t like this arrival so close to our trip to Ealdor.”

***

Merlin’s pace was quick while carefully avoiding the appearance of running. There was a back way to the king’s hall. Despite Arthur’s orders, there was no way he was letting his prince meet with a group from a kingdom that not only allowed sorcery but actually kept them among the court.

He stumbled at the turn of the hall, nearly running over Gwen as she hurried in his direction. “Oh thank goodness,” she whispered loudly, grabbing his arm and dropping it just as quickly.

“Merlin, you have to come with me right now.”

“The king,” he started, pointing towards the path he had intended to take.

“We know,” Gwen answered quietly, her eyes dropping to the floor before the firming of her mouth reflected her resolve. “You have to come with me, right now, or this could be war.”

“War?” Merlin gaped in confusion. He followed her mechanically when she turned and started away.

His silence was stunned for a good fifty paces, and then he hissed his question furiously, “Over a village the king never cared about?”

He was turning to keep talking to Gwen, even as she opened the door to Morgana’s room and looked on the verge of shoving him inside.

“What good is a king who’ll squabble over something he doesn’t care about like a child who won’t share his toys?”

“You are too harsh, Merlin.”

The voice was one he’d known since birth and Merlin turned, his anger fading at such a reunion so soon. “Mother?”

And then, as he caught sight of the well-dressed court lady sitting with Morgana, he repeated it again. “Mother?!?”

Gwen bowed and ducked out the door to guard it against entry.

“Cendred is here,” Hunith explained as she rose and approached her son with sorrow, “not because Arthur helped to protect Ealdor.”

There were tears in her eyes as she raised her hands to cup her son’s face. Peasant hands, at odds with the fine linen and wool of her current clothing and the coif of hair curled and pinned at the back of her head, that he covered with his own.

“He is here because of my lies… and we haven’t much time or all of Camelot will pay the price.”

***

Arthur slowed his stride as he entered his father’s hall. The guards opened the doors without a hesitation, their interest showing in the complete blankness of their faces. He ignored them, as was expected, and entered with a moderate stride designed to allow him time to evaluate the circumstances but not seem to be hesitating.

It was worse than he had expected.

“Your Majesty,” he greeted his father with a bow. Then, to the other seated man, he completed a slightly less thorough bow. “And your Majesty.”

Uther stared at him for a worrying time. “Arthur,” he acknowledged.

“Prince Arthur,” Cendred began with a smile. “Our seers speak well of you and the future of Camelot.”

Tensing at the mention of seers, Arthur narrowed his eyes at the party from Celidoine. The one individual, carefully standing within a knot of guards, kept his head slightly lowered but was clearly marked by his staff.

“King Cendred’s entire delegation,” the emphasis was noted by Arthur for the distaste in his father’s voice, “has arrived under a flag of peace.”

“And Camelot is a gracious host to accept my party without the exclusion of a valued member of my guard,” Cendred acknowledged with a short incline of his head.

The kings shared a glance, uneasy but resolved, before turning once more to Arthur. For his part, he thought it much more comfortable when their focus had been elsewhere. Yet, he was bred a prince and did not waver.

“Now that my son has arrived, perhaps we can approach the reason for your unscheduled visit.” Uther’s tone was riding the edge of acceptably polite, but the visit itself had been a surprise.

And not at all a pleasant one.

“Yes,” Cendred agreed, “to the point of the matter. I have recently been reunited with my sister, Hunith, who was residing on the outskirts of my kingdom.”

Uther’s gaze showed no recognition of the name, but Arthur focused more closely wondering at the coincidence.

“And despite the tragedies that have afflicted Celidoine’s succession in the past two years,” he paused to acknowledge the passing of his sons. An heir and a spare, yet not enough. “She has informed me that her son resides in safety within the arms of Camelot.”

Arthur’s blood seemed to freeze, his thoughts racing. No noble guest resided in permanency within Camelot’s walls. To simply rebuff Cendred’s assumptions could lead to conflict at the very least.

Uther’s gaze settled on Arthur, seeming to express the same sentiment.

Yet, Arthur’s thoughts flowed on to a conclusion outside the reach of his father’s. There was a Hunith whose son resided within Camelot. A mother and son whose knowledge seemed beyond the reach of a simple peasant. Their ability to read and write was unusual in such an isolated village. And Merlin’s abilities…

Arthur shoved the thought away, not able to acknowledge the threat he sheltered within the boundaries of his father’s protection. The threat that seemed, at times, to barely have the sense to disguise himself… and would have been confronted about his disregard of personal safety if Arthur hadn’t seen the fear in his eyes. A fear that was his fault when he beckoned it forth from a lifetime of his father’s rhetoric and his own senseless overreaction.

Before any of them could break the tense silence that had fallen, the doors opened.

Hunith. Arthur recognized the kind face even in such a different setting - her dress that of a noblewoman, hair carefully groomed. He looked quickly at his father, but the king’s face was clear of recognition. And why would he, as she hadn’t been anything other than another petitioning peasant.

But the man at her arm… The surcoat echoed the style of Arthur’s own, but the color was a much more flattering dark blue. He looked… quite well… in the garb of privilege.

Arthur’s stomach twisted. His father’s temper over this would be impressive.

“Your Majesties,” Hunith curtsied, drawing her son forward. When she rose, she continued without a hint of nerves behind her motherly pride. “Brother,” she introduced, “my son, Merlin.”

Arthur refused to turn his head to meet the burning look from his father. Instead he considered his, now former, manservant. Merlin was well-suited to the better fitting clothes that clearly had been modeled on the styles he’d seen among the nobility of Camelot and echoed in the colors of Celidoine. Better suited than his usual rags, and without the ridiculous scarf at his neck, it was odd that a change of clothing was all that marked the difference between a peasant and one of noble blood.

Uther stood, drawing the attention from the intensity of emotion on Cendred’s face. “My son and I shall withdraw, to allow your reunion to proceed in relative privacy.”

The sharp grip Uther took on Arthur’s arm made it clear that wasn’t the only reason… but the one that allowed Camelot’s king to salve his pride.

***

The antechamber was more suited to waiting servants than a king and a prince, much less a furious king, but Arthur maintained his posture and pride.

“Explain.”

The terse note of displeasure was all Uther had to utter, but Arthur still hesitated before answering his father.

“I was unaware of the situation,” Arthur admitted. Adding quickly, before Uther could make assumptions regarding betrayal and treason as was his habit, “And I believe Merlin was equally unaware. His upbringing would draw no other conclusion.”

Uther frowned. Obviously it did not suit his sense of cynicism, yet it would seem somewhat clear. No one raised to understand privilege would have accepted the duties and consequences that had come to the boy.

“Celidoine,” he finally admitted, “may make a less impressive neighbor under such as him.”

“As your Majesty says,” Arthur acknowledged without really agreeing. He did his best to keep the skepticism out of his voice, but the truth… that Celidoine would be a dangerous rival should they misstep, was all too real.

***

Cendred stared at his nephew, not taking detail of the departure of Camelot’s ruler and heir. The boy, Merlin, didn’t really resemble his mother. His father? Hunith had never really admitted his identity despite his own suspicions, so he simply did not know.

But there was a family resemblance. Passed on the streets of Celidoine’s capital, he might have assumed the man to be a bastard relation of the royal family. Yet knowing that the succession was no longer in question was a relief all its own.

“Merlin.”

It was to his credit that his voice didn’t shake as he replied, “Your Majesty,” in a calm and even tone. Merlin met the king’s eyes without fear, his time in Camelot having built his confidence even if he had no true grasp of the situation.

Truly, all he understood was that his mother had demanded he clothe himself as a noble (using magic, even!) and practically marched him to this audience chamber.

“I had no faith remaining that Celidoine could be secure. My sister has returned that to me.”

Merlin frowned slightly. “I don’t understand.”

Cendred smiled bittersweet. “My sons were raised to privilege, with the understanding of what would come. Perhaps you, with none of the expectation but all of the example of what our seers indicate of Arthur’s potential, can meet the needs of my kingdom.”

“Your majesty, I,” Merlin began.

“Brother,” Hunith interjected, “if I might explain to my son?”

Cendred’s stare was penetrating, breaking through his emotion to examine them both. There were gaps in reason in this situation, gaps that were not satisfactorily explained. After a long moment, he nodded.

But before Hunith could speak, Uther returned to the room followed immediately by Arthur.  
Uther’s smile was on the near side of predatory. “King Cendred, the congratulations of Camelot are freely offered at such a precipitous family reunion. Should you need to settle any immediate business, our court would be happy to serve as host.”

Cendred nodded, pausing only momentarily. “The arrangements must be discussed. Merlin, I assume you can see to having the servants pack your things.”

He dismissed his sister and nephew with a small gesture, turning to speak with Uther. Arthur, at his father’s nod, gestured for the two to join him in exiting.

Hunith, a frown twisting her mouth, walked off down the hall with only a quick, sad glance back towards her son. Merlin hesitated, lost. Habit kept his feet in time with Arthur’s, blind trust following the prince back to his chambers.

Habit again had Merlin moving towards the table with the cloak tossed carelessly across it. As he picked up the woolen article, Arthur’s hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“Merlin, you aren’t my manservant anymore… Cendred would start a war for the insult.”

The look Merlin turned on Arthur had Camelot’s prince pulling him into a hug. Merlin trembled in the embrace, scared more than he’d ever been in the face of threat from magic or man.

“What am I going to do?”

Arthur pulled back, cupping Merlin’s face between his hands to keep the other man from pulling away.

“Merlin, you’re the only surviving male of Cendred’s line.” Arthur paused, but didn’t see recognition in Merlin’s blue eyes.

“King Cendred and my father are downstairs making arrangements to have you crowned prince and heir to Celidoine.”

Merlin jerked away, startled by the truth that had been hanging in front of him. Arthur caught him by the arms, pulling him back into an embrace. Merlin curled into the hug, pressing his face into Arthur’s neck with a whine of dismay.

***

The court of Camelot was arrayed about the throne room. Arthur, standing at his father’s side, had yielded his usual chair to King Cendred. The two kings sat with a carefully arranged foot of space between the chairs. Close enough to mark this uneasy alliance, but distanced enough for privacy.

Morgana was poised at Hunith’s side. The sweep of their dresses disguised the hands clasped together for support. Morgana, more than anyone, understood the sacrifices of a lady of the court. Hunith’s life of freedom and simplicity was at an end.

The large mirror that had been moved into the hall was the only item out of place. It stood, supported by guards, next to the Celidoine king’s sorcerer. It was one of two acts of magic negotiated between the kings for this event. The second, a circlet set with polished emeralds, sat gleaming on the arm of Cendred’s throne.

Even as he’d performed the spells that had transported the prince’s crown from the capital of Celidoine and charmed the mirror, the sorcerer had glanced nervously around in fear. It was no safe thing to perform magic in Camelot, even with his own king watching carefully while the other stared with significant paranoia.

Though the charm lasted only a pair of hours, the mirror would likely be destroyed afterwards. An item of great expense, the trade that Cendred had arranged for these concessions was significant.

The mirror reflected a hall not present and a collection of courtiers and nobles who were not there. They watched, silent and pensive, as their king conducted business from so far away. It was business that simply could not be delayed to ensure the continued stability and health of a kingdom.

Merlin entered through the doors, the unnatural silence of the throne room bringing him to a halt.

Over the length of the hall, he met Arthur’s gaze and Camelot’s prince nodded slightly in encouragement. Firming his resolve, Merlin started forward. His pace was measured, practiced, not too quick but not too slow.

When he reached the kings, he bowed briefly to Uther before kneeling before Cendred.

Cendred stood, holding the coronet lightly between two hands. “Celidoine has grieved these two years past, for the loss of her princes. Yet we have gained through the return of my sister, a new hope for our kingdom.”

Reaching out, he settled the weight of a nation of responsibilities upon Merlin’s brow. Taking it without flinching, Merlin raised his head to meet his uncle’s steady consideration.

“Rise, Merlin, Prince of Celidoine.”

Merlin stood, bowing to the kings, before turning to the hall. There was applause, perhaps not as much when this hall had recognized Arthur, but strong and resounding from the reflecting glass. He nodded to a hall full of individuals he was soon to meet, the whole experience feeling more like an ending than a beginning.

***

“You should be careful with that.”

Merlin looked up, halting his consideration of the coronet he held between his hands. Seeking refuge, he’d found himself here in Arthur’s chambers. Flexing his knees to unwind from the chair, he placed his feet flat on the floor and dropped the prince’s crown he held on the table.

“I don’t feel like a prince.”

Arthur smiled, soft and somehow sad. “What did you expect being a prince to feel like?”

“I don’t have any impulses to be a prat?” Merlin’s joke fell flat, his face dropping as he stared at his feet.

“Merlin,” Arthur’s voice was gentle. “You care about people and that’s all you’ll need. Since you taught me that, I don’t think you’ll have any problem remembering it.”

Merlin looked up, the smile on his face the first true one to be seen all day. It faded as he admitted, “I don’t want to go.”

Arthur stepped closer, their knees nearly touching as he stood directly in front of Merlin. “They need you.”

“You need me.”

“I may actually get a competent manservant out of this,” Arthur joked. Then, seriously, “But my knights shall actually have to start doing their job of protecting Camelot.”

Merlin’s face went pale.

“How long were you going to stay here, knowing that at any moment my father could order your death?”

Arthur picked up the discarded coronet. He balanced it on his palms, watching the way the gold reflected in Merlin’s eyes. “This protects you. Even Uther wouldn’t…” He was silent for a long moment. “Merlin, it’s legal to be a sorcerer in Celidoine. You shouldn’t have had to hide the way you’ve saved my life.”

Merlin stood, suddenly far too close, but Arthur didn’t step back. He took his crown from Arthur’s hands and laid it back on the table. “And what about the things they can’t protect you from?”

Arthur huffed a half-forgotten laugh. “Shouldn’t you be worrying about protecting yourself?”  
There were no answers for either of them. No answers to be seen, nothing to be solved.

Merlin’s hands lifted to gently stroke the gold of the coronet adorning Arthur’s brow. “You’re no longer my prince.”

Arthur’s eyes darkened at the phrase, no offense carried in the soft muttering. Merlin lifted the crown away, setting it on the table, half-balanced atop his own. His fingers, trembling faintly, brushed aside the hair that had been so carelessly flattened.

“We’re equals now, Arthur.”

Merlin leaned in, so hesitant, but there was no resistance or denial in this attempt. Arthur met his lips in a kiss, soft and hesitant as they tested this attraction. Then, on a gasp, it turned passionate.

Fumbling one-handed at the clasp of his cloak, Arthur clutched Merlin by the waist to bring him even closer. Merlin, desperate, wound his fingers in the curling hair at the nape of Arthur’s neck as they kissed. They staggered, their weights competing as they leaned into each other, seeking some outside support.

Merlin’s cloak crumpled to the ground, the clasp released. Long hours on the training field stood Arthur in good stead as he finally just lifted Merlin and turned to carry him the few steps to the bed. Unwilling to be passive, Merlin wrapped his legs around Arthur’s hips as he staggered across the room.

They both groaned when Merlin hit the bed, his back arching and pressing his arousal into an answering hardness. Arthur’s fingers tangled between them, his mouth slipping away as he glanced down with a curse.

“Cursed laces!”

Merlin, with a smirk, caught Arthur’s hands and drew them away. His eyes flashed gold and the clothing they were wearing simply disappeared.

Arthur ran his hand down the incredibly pale side in a gentle caress. “That was my favorite shirt.”

One hand clenched around a flexing bicep, Merlin took them both in hand with the other. “I can stop and find it? Or, just buy you a new one after I have Alfric settle my account?”

Arthur leaned in for another kiss. “Damn tease,” he whispered against Merlin’s lips.

***

The morning light was thin and pale, casting the courtyard in a misty haze that obscured more than revealed. Merlin stood beside his horse, forehead pressed to the warm neck of the familiar beast, eyes closed as he tried to gather his composure. When he had reached the courtyard, the Stable Master had already saddled and readied his usual mount.

“A gift,” he’d said with a bow, “from our Prince Arthur,” before leaving Merlin to his thoughts.

“Merlin?”

He looked up, straightening at the sight of his king. “Your Majesty,” Merlin bowed to Cendred, wondering not for the first time how he was going to survive.

But on this morning, Cendred had the appearance more of a man. A man who had seen hardship, experienced loss, and didn’t quite know how to bridge this gap.

“That we do not know each other as family is irrefutable. But, I hope that we can alter this circumstance. I would ask that you address me as Uncle.”

Merlin faltered, not certain how to reply before settling on, “Of course, Uncle.”

Cendred reached out his hand gentle and reassuring as he set it upon Merlin’s shoulder. “I am not a fool, nor a warmonger, but if you desire recompense for your treatment here in Camelot...”

He let the sentence hang between them, offer and threat both.

Paling, as he realized that somehow the king knew his situation had not been that of companion, Merlin glanced to the upper window where he could just see a silent figure watching.

“No,” Merlin replied softly. “I don’t have any regrets.”

Cendred nodded, following Merlin’s gaze to the Prince’s window. There was a hint of knowledge in his eyes, some wisdom to which Merlin had no access. “Somehow, nephew, I doubt your words, but we shall leave in peace.”

As he walked away, Merlin mounted his horse and looked away to the gate. He shifted, uncomfortable in the saddle, blushing at the cause. The light, too dim to reveal his thoughts, hid the walls of Camelot behind them as the party started forward.

And as he passed out the castle gates, Merlin’s thoughts wandered in melancholy as to when he would return.


End file.
